


Aim To Defend

by Agent_24



Series: ShinDrift Week [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, M/M, SOTD, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: Drifter's hurt, and Shin is barely clinging to consciousness. Light is so scarce here that healing is near impossible. Better, he thinks, for at least one of them to make it out.If only they weren't both so stubborn.(Post-Vale reveal, post-SOTD)





	Aim To Defend

**Author's Note:**

> For ShinDrift Week Day 1: Guard/Protect

"Wake up," Drifter snaps, and Shin jerks awake against his shoulder.

Everything hurts. Shin lets out a shuddering breath, black spots dancing over his vision. The sharpest pain is from a wound in his side, where a Hive Knight's sword cut into him and crushed a rib just as he put a bullet between its three eyes. There's more, too: burns from acolyte guns and scrapes that dig past his armor from thrall claws. If he closes his eyes for too long, he can still see the swarm of them running at him after the Knight had brought him down, can still hear their grating screams and see their horrible blunt teeth —

Drifter stumbles. Shin nearly bites his tongue off trying not to scream in pain. He can't risk attracting more Hive; his Light is already weak, and Drifter's is wavering. If Shin loses much more blood, if Drifter sustains any more injuries…

The whispers murmur low in his ears, a constant since they entered the Darkness Zone. [Come home —]

"Gonna stop here," Drifter grunts. He drops to one knee and slides Shin off his back slowly. It's still enough to have Shin black out briefly. When his vision clears, Drifter's Ghost nearly blinds him, a light shining too brightly over his wound while Drifter inspects it.

"Don't suppose you're secretly a Warlock?" Shin laughs weakly.

Drifter flashes him a dirty look. "Shin," he says. "Shut up."

Shutting up seems like a good idea. Talking hurts. Jaren's Ghost surfaces now that it's safe and starts working on healing him, but it's slow going with Light so scarce and slower still without a Ghost of his own. He's already dizzy, still struggling to stay awake.

"Transmat your vest off," Drifter says. Shin tries his best to breathe and nods at his Ghost, winces when his cracked armor gives way to the sticky cave floor. Drifter pulls his own helmet and gloves off the old fashioned way; Shin barely has time to find his helmet hair endearing before Drifter reaches over to lift his head and pulls Shin's cloak from his shoulders.

"Bite down on this," he says, folding it up and holding it to Shin's mouth.

Shin doesn't like where this is going. He bites down anyway.

Drifter places shaking hands over Shin's wound. It stings. "On three," he warns.

Shin nods. Drifter says, "One," and his hands flare hot.

Shin screams before his jaw locks up, back arching up off the ground. The material of his cloak squeaks between his teeth.

"There," Drifter says while Shin gasps and writhes. Shin's half-lidded eyes flit over his face, and he wonders if Drifter looks a little sick or if it's a trick of his Ghost's light. "Least you ain't gonna bleed out."

"Fuck you," Shin rasps with little venom, though he means _thank you._ Drifter snorts.

Shin goes back to trying to breathe. He's lucky his rib didn't puncture a lung, but each rise and fall of his chest still aches like a bitch. He doesn't know how long they can stay here. Drifter will heal long before he will, but Shin knows too well how much a wounded teammate can cripple a fireteam.

"You got any final requests, Malphur?" Drifter jokes. His shotgun rests in his lap, and he hasn't stopped glancing down the long cave tunnels since they stopped to rest. "Y'know, in case you bite the dust."

 _Bite the dust._ Shin hasn't heard that one in centuries. Is Drifter cracking jokes out of nerves?

Well. Jokes aside...he did ask.

"Kiss me?" Shin asks.

Drifter freezes. Even his Ghost's bright eye swivels towards Shin briefly. "You delirious?" Drifter asks, strained. "That ain't funny."

Shin motions at Jaren's Ghost, transmats his helmet away. "Wasn't joking," he murmurs, licking his cracked lips.

Drifter's brows knit, mouth twisting like he's trying not to frown too deeply. "You might really kick the bucket," he says, incredulous, "and you just want a kiss?"

Shin nods.

Drifter looks upset. His shoulders go stiff, hands flexing tighter and tighter over the barrel of his shotgun. He opens his mouth, closes it.

Shin says, "Please."

"Fuck," Drifter says, then puts his shotgun down and leans over him.

Drifter's necklace falls against Shin's chest, and the kiss is not very heated. Shin is not entirely sure what to think of it, other than that he likes it — no hard press of desire, no teeth, no tongue — and that it doesn't carry the passion of a goodbye, no matter how much he tries to steer it that way.

In the end, he gathers up enough strength to reach up to brush knuckles against Drifter's cheek, to cup his jaw in his palm and smooth a thumb over his cheekbone. If Drifter is startled by this, he doesn't show it much beyond a half-pause before his lips start moving against Shin's mouth again.

Distantly, Shin hears gunfire.

He cups the back of Drifter's neck then, pressing their foreheads together before dropping his head back to the sticky ground. "You should go," he murmurs.

Drifter sits back fast. "What?"

"You should go," Shin repeats. "S'gonna be a while before my Ghost finishes up with me. No sense in you getting killed, too."

"You ain't seriously just gonna lay here and die," Drifter objects.

Shin offers a smile. Drifter immediately looks unsettled. "I'll take a few down with me, if it comes to it."

"Cut the shit," Drifter snaps. "You ain't that goddamn righteous. Cut the shit."

"You gonna fight the Hive with me on your back?" Shin asks.

"You'll be fine before we run into any more."

"And if I'm not?"

"You'll be fine," Drifter insists.

The sound of gunfire grows louder. Shin reckons Scorn have weaseled their way into the caves now. He'd seen old trails of Dark Ether along the ground at the entrance, and it's not impossible that they'd returned.

"I want you to go, Drifter," Shin says quietly.

Drifter stares at him. His Adam's apple bobs once, twice, like something is caught in his throat. Then, through his teeth, "I don't give a _shit_ what you want."

Shin's mouth falls open. He wants to object, but Drifter's already snatched up his shotgun and pressed his back to the curve of the cave walls. The gunfire has stopped, and rapid footsteps are coming from around the corner. Shin tries to pull his cannon up from his holster where Jaren's Ghost had placed it without jostling his ribs and flinches, feels his Ghost's Light flicker while it tries to heal him faster —

The footsteps slow, then stop. Shin strains to hear, catches the footsteps start again and the wet, sticky sound of feet against Hive gunk. He hears Drifter exhale, shaky.

A Warlock peeks around the corner shotgun first, their helm adorned with Ahamkara bones. Shin lets out his breath.

Drifter leans forward to look at the newcomer, who jolts back in surprise, before he sags back against the wall. "Aw hell," he says, exhaling in relief, "It's just you."

He climbs to his feet as the Warlock rushes closer, stands upright just in time for them to slam into his chest and throw arms around his neck. Drifter grunts at the impact, arms raised in surprise before he awkwardly pats them on the back. "Yeah, yeah, alright kid, calm down. I'm fine."

The Guardian leans back, hands on his shoulders to keep him at arm's length while they look him up and down. A frustrated huff comes from beneath their helmet.

"Mostly fine," Drifter corrects, frowning when they cup his cheek worriedly. After a pause, he pulls their hand away by the wrist and cocks his head towards Shin. "Hey, do me a favor and heal my buddy, will ya? Sorry bastard's half dead."

 _Buddy,_ yeah, sure. Shin is still trying to figure out who Drifter would call for backup, when he did so without Shin's knowing. Somehow more shocking than wish eater bones are their robes: Praxic Order, looks like, only it's shaded a shimmering green, and even stranger, their bond and boots are adorned with curving yellow snakes. Gambit armor, Sentry, and before the Guardian turns to face him, he realizes that the Warlock symbol on their back has been scraped off.

 _She says she likes the whole leather vest look,_ he remembers Drifter telling him once. _I think she just wanted to say 'fuck you' to Aunor._

Shin realizes with a terrible sort of dread that he is looking at the heir of his hunt.

Leave it to Drifter to make things as inconvenient for him as possible.

She pulls Drifter's arm and motions for him to sit. He does. She drops a healing rift, then crouches at Shin's side. She signs, "I'm Tirte."

Shin inhales deep and slow as Light rushes back to him and his wounds heal over, his cuts and cracked ribs and the burn Drifter left on his chest. He never meant to meet her, really. Never face to face. He considers her body language — friendly, open, sympathetic — and wonders about her expression beneath her helm. He imagines she looks kind.

He sits up on one elbow and reaches for her hand. His ribs don't hurt. He brings it to his mouth, kisses her gloved knuckles. It had been an honor to influence her, that'd been no lie, and it's an honor to meet her too, even as he feels naked for it.

"I know," he replies.

She freezes. She knows his voice. That was planned.

Tirte snatches her hand away and stands up, tall and imposing. "I'm going to scout ahead," she signs at Drifter.

Drifter looks tense. He nods. Tirte yanks Malfeasance from the holster at the small of her back, the barrel wrapped in red string, and storms off.

Shin has never regretted his long con. He can't imagine he ever will. But he aches about it, sometimes.

Drifter lets out a nervous little huff of laughter. "Yikes," he says.


End file.
